


an innocent with much to learn

by mysticaltorque



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Identity Porn, Mistaken Identity, ThoscheiLockdown2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticaltorque/pseuds/mysticaltorque
Summary: Harold Saxon meets the Time Lord commonly known as the Master on election night.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Simm)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: Thoschei Lockdown The First 2020





	an innocent with much to learn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThoughtsCascade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoughtsCascade/gifts).



Harold Saxon-  _ best to get into good habits just in case of any mild telepathy talents _ \- is miffed. It's approximately halfway through Election Day and apparently Torchwood is incompetent enough to Not Pay Any Attention The Aforementioned Day. Even he could feel the blowback from the explosion, temporally deafened as he is by the combination of the Paradox Engine and the drums- it must have pinged some human scanner somewhere. But no. Here he is- Harold Saxon, soon-to-be Prime Minister- driving out to the Green Belt to investigate what felt like a rip in space-time mend over in a way that the Master hadn't seen-

_ don’t think about the vortex _

-Harold  _ Saxon _ hadn't seen in years. If any other major player landed this late in the game, his plan might fall askew from the perfection it currently was. Best to cut things off at the chase, Saxon thinks, as he accelerates. Said acceleration was achieved mainly using technology the Doctor’s TARDIS and psychically screeched at him for hours for purloining, and still managed to get a good squeal in if he went too close to 300. It was worth it, Saxon reminded himself, humming the way he’d been taught in the Academy to block out psychic attack.

The readings were coming from a dilapidated warehouse in Sheffield. Odd, considering that, now that he was closer, he could feel the distinct aura of a TARDIS. Perhaps the Doctor had arrived early? 

Saxon slipped out of the car, his ‘adjustments’ giving one final deafening mental squeal before falling silent. He crept into the warehouse through a door frame, wondering at the hinges being unbroken and no sign of sonic or laser manipulation, although faint sounds did emanate from further within. Walking further in, he noticed a small slab of wood, about the size of his palm. Seized with familiarity, Saxon picked up the wood, turning around to align it perfectly with where the door would be. The miniature door- for that was what it was, Saxon realised- aligned perfectly. Some form of shrink ray, then. Unusual, and perhaps not the Doctor at all. Saxon scanned his senses that would let him know of an impending paradox, not wanting to mess anything up this close to his plan being complete. Nothing. Well, the screaming of the TARDIS as well as mild psychic blowback from being still dizzy from the chameleon arch while regenerating did him no favours in that regard- although the paradox machine might simply negate any issue. Creating a world-ending monstrosity against the flow of time did tend to leave- wrinkles, of a sort.

The noise was growing more distinctively into a monologue, thus almost confirming the presence of a Timelord, and likely one of the more fun ones. Harold Saxon took a moment to shudder in gratefulness that none of the odious CIA had survived the Time War-  _ they’d ruin all of the Master’s fun and imprison the Doctor where the Master could never see him again _ \- what a horrible fate! At a particularly indigent yell that followed some sort of aggressive discharge-  _ likely not the Doctor then _ , Saxon mused, given the Doctor’s crusade around guns- the pitch informed Saxon the former monologuer was likely to currently be a Time Lady. Idly preparing himself to face a rather more aggressive Rani-  _ if anyone could survive the Time War, it would be her _ , Saxon turned the corner into one of the more interesting firefights that he’d ever seen. There was no fire, of course, and given the rather good ability of the Rani to dodge, it wasn’t much of a fight for the poor Mondassian Cybermen either, their shots more likely to refract and hit themselves than their target. The Rani skidded towards Saxon, grabbed his tie, and towed back around the corner he’d just navigated while the Cybermen-  _ only two, rather small for an elimination squad _ \- began to march towards them as the Rani fiddled in her pockets for something- _ ooh, suspenders, nice _ \- aiming at the nearest Cyberman and-

_ the Master compressed the Cyberman down to a little toy, and she turned and shrunk the remaining Cyberman and then she aimed the new and improved tissue compression eliminator at Saxon and _

Saxon jerked back put his hands up and blindly thought 

_ ‘Contactparadoxmachineandarchhangoversorrysorrysorrymasterletswalkourseperateways’ _

__ in a manner more resembling a foghorn than the more dignified art of Time Lord to Time Lord mental communication. From the look the Master was giving him, he’d sounded more like the Doctor than the dignified Master on the edge of victory that he was. Oh well. Younger regenerations were always a tad embarrassing, especially likely to one as late as her, who judging by the aging of her regeneration was almost a full cycle ahead of him, an easy way to sort out paradoxes if you weren’t the Doctor who had a few genetic strings awry in his looming and felt like an elder. The Master reached back 

_ ‘contactceaseanddesistgogetelectedforadatewiththedoctorlikethecompanionlookonme’ _

and Saxon snorted audibly as he charted the similarities to Rose Tyler, one of the Doctor’s known associates. Oh, she was  _ very _ good. And, judging by her eagerness to shepherd him away, even if his plan fails, it still was a fond memory. Yes, thought Saxon, turning his back on the Master with the knowledge she couldn’t shrink him and live, the future looked bright. The future also looked bottle blonde, but you couldn’t have it all when you were the Master. That’s what the destruction was for.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: as this is all de-anonised now the soundtrack for this fic is 'tecteun' from the s13 soundtrack. It is pretty much exactly the sort of pseudo-classical stuff i listened to making this. Although some Max Richter would not go amiss.


End file.
